This is my story. Part remembrance, part fact and a whole lot of my own perspective. Family members will disagree with this aspect or that detail. Some might see it in a completely different light. That’s okay – while we walk the same path, it’s a different journey for each of us.
My father passed away in 2014. He was 84 years old. My parents divorced when I was in my 20’s. I left for college at 18 and returned home only for visits. My mother died in 1994 – she was our anchor. Dad and I spoke frequently by phone for many years and visited periodically, but we were not emotionally close. Our conversations leaned toward the obligatory and routine. As time went by we were both busy with new families and separated by considerable geography. I would characterize our relationship as one of acquaintances. Lots of familiarity, but little closeness. We didn’t speak at all during his final months.
Throughout my childhood, Dad had a Bolsey 35MM camera with a manual light meter. He could be obsessive about taking pictures of the mundane. The same train switch from 5 different angles. Every mammal, bird and reptile in the zoo. He chose slides over prints.
It was a running joke in the family about these slides. He was forever arranging and categorizing them into boxes and carousels. Invariably, a few were backwards, upside down or out of order. Stopping mid slide show to rearrange was the norm. We weren’t the most patient or appreciative audience. There came a point when he stopped showing his slides to us. He kept taking pictures though. Three thousand of them.
When my brothers and I went up to Alaska for his memorial service we found the slides. Not that they were lost, they were right there on shelves in the basement of the house he’d lived in for 57 years. The house I lived in for the first 18 years of my life until I moved out of state. They were scattered around on different shelves, some lying loose and covered in years of dust. There was a semblance of order to them and you could see that he was still in the midst of arranging them – just as he had been doing for the past 60+ years.
Neither of my brothers wanted the slides, nor did anyone else. I didn’t think I wanted them either, but it just didn’t seem right to me that something so important to my father wouldn’t find a home with one of us. So I took them. Seven metal boxes and way too many plastic carousels full of 3,000+ slides. I also grabbed the Pana-Vue slide viewer and his old electric slide sorter, a backlit panel that held 40 transparencies at a time.
A few weeks after arriving back home, I reluctantly sat down at the dining room table to check out these little cardboard and transparency squares that had so interested my father. I had no idea what I would find. I guessed it would be a boring and short lived endeavor. Instead, I found my childhood. I had lost that – I just didn’t know it until I found it tucked away in the slides.
The pictures started in 1950 and went up to the mid 80’s. It was a pictoral history of my parent’s marriage and my childhood. That includes my brothers’ childhood, but this is my story and I don’t wish to make them carry the burden of my perspective – it’s enough for each of us to have to wrestle with our own.
I knew I had to digitize the slides, just not 3,000. I’d have to do some serious winnowing. For close to two months, hours at a time I viewed, arranged and categorized each and every slide. I did my best to divide them by decade, year and season – 30 years worth. Dad had painstakingly written dates, places or names on about 80% of the slides, many later in life when his hands were unsteady and his writing shaky.
I had to do a bit of sleuthing for the early slides he hadn’t dated. I discovered you can go online and date slides by the cardboard mounts/edges. Once I had them arranged by date it took me three go throughs to get down to 1,000. For this story I whittled that number down by another two thirds.
While this is first a pictoral history of my parent’s marriage and my childhood, it also offers a glimpse of life beginning in the 50’s in what at the time was considered “The Last Frontier”. Enjoy.
Dad loved trains – the picture below is of a Northern Pacific Railway steam locomotive that he shot in Dixon, Montana in 1950. You’ll see this image often – I’ll use it to signify another leg of the journey.
p.s. this is more than a story of geography, it is also a journey of the heart. cave, lector…….
Chapter 1 – The Early Years
In 2007 Dad wrote a letter to my brothers and me giving a brief three page overview, a condensed version if you will of his life from 1950 up to just before our Mom died. It highlighted important events in his life as a young man; a husband to our mother; and as father to his first family. You’ll see quotes where I’ve inserted italicized excerpts from his letter. I defer to the timeline and history found within his written remembrances. I’ve cobbled the rest of the timeline/history of their journey together from notations of dates, names and locations he made on his slides. I don’t make any claims to these sources being 100% accurate from an historical perspective, but I do claim them to be 100% accurate from personal perspective. What more could one ask for?
My parents were both from Connecticut and met in high school. Dad went off to college in Montana, lasting one year before deciding it wasn’t for him. He took off for the Alaska Territory first in 1950 and again in 1952, working just outside of Anchorage and then up near Mount McKinley, now officially Mt. Denali, as a laborer doing road construction.
1950 – From Dad’s letter – “My first time in Alaska was in 1950 and consisted of one week in Anchorage and the balance of the time at Yakutat. My trip then to Anchorage was via Canadian Pacific Steamship from Vancouver to Juneau via their coastwise freighter service that took 125 passengers and stopped at many small ports that I learned were known as Dogholes. From Juneau to Anchorage was via Pacific Northern Airlines DC 3 that had to land at Elmendorf because the runway at Merrill Field was not long enough and the International airport was just under construction.
Picture I took of his steamship ticket – front and back – Dad saved it in a photo album.
Dad’s slides begin:
Here are two pictures of downtown Anchorage in 1950 – they were taken on 3rd and 4th Avenues. Check out the cars and the clothes
Downtown Anchorage 1950 – 4th Avenue
Downtown Anchorage 1950 – 3rd Avenue
1952 – Dad heads back up to Alaska for the second time – another excerpt from his letter. “Your Mother and I had last seen each other in early January 1952. I secured employment with the Alaska Road Commission and for several weeks was at their camp at Rainbow south of Anchorage on the road being constructed” “I was then sent to their camp at Slime Creek, between Cantwell and McKinley Park working on a brand new road connecting the two points. The job was a D-8 push cat operator, 10 hours per day, 6 days per week. With housing and meals furnished at no cost and 6 people to a Wannigan (cabin). The camp had 30 people.”
Crew at Slime/Sline Camp Cantwell, AK – Dad is on top step in doorway wearing blue shirt. Check out the cook in the lower right hand of the picture. (Slime Creek is actually Sline Creek, but was commonly misnamed on the maps in the early years-per Wikipedia)
I doubt those cabins had any insulation, not much for heat and no housekeeping service
Cantwell, Alaska – construction crew 1952
I’m betting that was fresh meat for a few meals
Feeding the birds
D-8 push cat
Constructing new road connecting Cantwell and McKinley Park
Mt. Denali aka McKinley and Wonder Lake
Mt. McKinley National Park – sightseeing on day off
Fireweed at Kachemak Bay
Alaska Nellie – quite the character – look her up on the internet
Mt. Susitna (Sleeping Lady) seen from Anchorage
Seward Highway – outside of Anchorage (the red lines in picture are from damage to the slide – I left all slides as they were)
The Seward Highway extends 125 miles (201 km) from Seward to Anchorage. It was completed in 1951 and runs through the scenic Kenai Peninsula, Chugach National Forest, Turnagain Arm, and Kenai Mountains. (wikipedia)
Turnagain Arm outside Anchorage – it may not have an inspiring name, but it’s beauty is breath taking.
Turnagain extends in an east-west direction, and is between 40–45 miles long. It forms part of the northern boundary of Kenai Peninsula. Turnagain is characterized by remarkably large tides of up to 40 feet (12 meters) which are the largest tides in the United States. At low tide, the arm becomes a broad mud flat, cut by the stream channels. (Wikipedia)
Turnagain Arm was named by William Bligh of HMS Bounty fame. Bligh served as Cook’s Sailing Master on his 3rd and final voyage, the aim of which was discovery of the Northwest Passage. This was the second river they went up and had to turn around again. Hence the disingenuous name “Turn Again”. Early maps label Turnagain Arm as the “Turnagain River”. (Wikipedia)
The journey continues………………….
Chapter Two – Getting Married
My mother attended school in Ohio before also deciding college wasn’t for her; and moved back home to Connecticut. In October 1952, traveling from opposite coasts, my future parents met and married in Dixon, Montana at a relative’s home. Here, I’ll let my Dad tell you in his own words.
John – “During this period your Mother and I corresponded and decided to get married in Montana at Uncle Lowry’s. I would leave Cantwell on the 16th (September) and arrive in Dixon 7 days later. Your Mother would arrive on the 25th. Uncle Lowry and I arrived at the station in Missoula about one hour early. Waiting for the train to arrive and then for your Mother to get off was nerve wracking, to say the least.”
October 4, 1952 John & Ruth marry in Dixon, Montana
The newlyweds go sightseeing.
Flathead River Montana
Blackfoot River Montana
Mission Range Western Montana
Devil’s Monument Wyoming
Crescent Lake, Olympic National Park
1952 cont – After their two-week sightseeing trip they arrived back in Dixon, Montana.
Here’s Dad’s take: “Upon our arrival back in Dixon we had to decide what to do next. We came up with the idea that we would be in Guilford for Christmas and in the interim we would go to Cleveland where we both had stayed in 1951.”
” We rented a room with cooking corner and the bathroom down the hall at 1935 79th Street in Cleveland. It was an experience but we decided to be in Guilford for Christmas.”
1935 79th Street in Cleveland
Steel Mills in Cleveland, Ohio 1950
The journey continues………….
Chapter Three – Back to Connecticut
Going back home to Connecticut 1952
My mother grew up on a working farm in Connecticut.
Maternal grandfather and grandmother in front of farmhouse
The dairy barn
John – “Upon arrival in Guilford I found that my Grandmother, who lived alone in a large house in the country, was in poor health and could not continue living in her home. She lived in the country and that made the situation more difficult. We divided our time between Guilford and Woodbridge while coming up with a solution. Your Mother had a job as a waitress at the Three Judges Restaurant not far from the house and I secured employment with a friend of our family.”
This is the house my father’s grandmother (Nannie) lived in out in the country in Woodbridge, CT. Dad spent many years living with his paternal grandparents after the early death of his father.
Nannie and John – note the camera case
Nannie and John all dressed up
George Washington Bridge 1953
Central Park Hansom cabs
John – “During the period from March 1953 to April 1954 we renovated and sold the Woodbridge house and 7 acres of land, Jeffrey appeared and I had chicken pox. “
John – “We had also decided to return out West. Many years later I must confess Alaska was in the back of my mind. Shortly before we left Guilford our car was totaled by an individual having a heart attack. We then purchased another new Plymouth and left for Dixon the first of May. On our way we visited the Badlands in the Dakotas and Yellowstone Park.”
Heading back out West
The Needles Black Hills, South Dakota
Ruthie – Black Hills, S.D.
John – Badlands, S.D.
Black Bear – Yellowstone. Yes, that’s the baby’s head in the foreground………….he survived.
This was the 50’s bears were different back then – much better manners
The journey continues…….
Chapter Four – Spokane
Summer 1954 – April 1956
John – After a visit in Dixon we rented a small house at 817 E. Jackson in downtown Spokane. The stove in the kitchen burned Preston Logs (Compressed sawdust) and heated the house and hot water as well as for cooking. I secured employment with a company called The Mercantile Protective Bureau. Its main reason for existence was collecting bill and locating individuals who did not want to be located. The work was very interesting and I learned a lot about human nature and the problems people endure through no fault of their own. Joel arrived in June 1955 and we left for Alaska in April 1956. we took two weeks driving up that included visiting a cousin of your Mother in the Okanagan Valley of British Columbia.”
Mom and the boys – Spokane, Washington
Check out the kitchen
Dad and the boys. This rocking chair followed my parents cross country – it was his favorite chair. I remember sitting in my Dad’s lap on this rocking chair while he read books to me. He loved reading Dickens A Christmas Carol – Marley the ghost scared the Bejesus out of me
Grammie (Mom’s mom) Check out the decor and the magazines
North to Alaska…….
Chapter Five – Alaska, Here We Come!
On the road again
In the spring of 1956 my parents drove up the ALCAN Highway, a 1,700 mile unpaved road in a 4 door sedan with two toddlers, cloth diapers, a coleman stove and a canvas army tent.
The Alaska Highway (also known as the Alaskan Highway, Alaska-Canadian Highway, or ALCAN Highway) was constructed during World War II for the purpose of connecting the contiguous United States to Alaska through Canada. It begins at the junction with several Canadian highways in Dawson Creek, British Columbia, and runs to Delta Junction, Alaska, via Whitehorse, Yukon. Completed in 1942 at a length of approximately 1,700 miles (2,700 km), as of 2012 it is 1,387 mi (2,232 km) long. The difference in distance is due to constant reconstruction of the highway, which has rerouted and straightened out numerous sections. The highway was opened to the public in 1948. Legendary over many decades for being a rough, challenging drive, the highway is now paved over its entire length.(Wikipedia)
Beginning of the ALCAN Highway
This would have been before car seats
Can’t imagine packing and unpacking every morning and night for two weeks
It was all an adventure
I doubt it was this sunny and mild the entire trip
Tent had a small vent on one side
Chapter Six – Arrived!
John – “We arrived in Anchorage the first part of May 1956. I had last been there in September 1952 and the change even then was quite remarkable. In looking for housing it did not take long to decide on purchasing a home. We had the funds and felt that if we decided to leave we would be able to recoup our money. So we purchased “R” street with its diesel oil burning range in the kitchen, that also heated the water. The source of heat was this stove upstair and a diesel burning space heater in the basement. The hot water tank was in the closet in what became Melissa’s room and provided quite a bit of heat.”
This is one of my favorite pictures
Mom & Melissa 1958 – I was born in the Territory of Alaska and fear not, I am a U.S. citizen
Alaska Statehood Bonfire – June 30, 1958
Alaska Statehood Bonfire – June 30, 1958
U.S. Post Office July 4, 1958
Inlet View Elementary School built in 1957 and located down the hill from our house
I’m going to shift my format a bit here – the next chapters will be based on category, not chronology.
Chapter 7 – Picnicking and Camping
In looking over the slides I was struck by how often my parents took us camping and picnicking. These weren’t short drives to a local park, often these were hours long treks over dirt roads to far flung parts of the state. They would pack us kids, the Coleman stove and the tent for overnights and be off to explore new sights.
Pollards Lake – Kasilof, AK
Camping off Richardson Highway
Bootleggers Cove – Anchorage
Meiers Lodge Richardson Highway
Polychrome Pass in Denali National Park
Marvin McNutt’s cabin & plane-Lake Hood
Tangle Lakes along Denali Highway
Ruth and children in dragline bucket – Ester, AK
At Homer Spit
Heading to Kenai Lake
North Pole Alaska
Picnics are the best!
Chapter 8 – “R” Street Transformed
One of the things that struck me when I went through the slides the first time was how much our house changed over the years.
Dad touched on this in the opening paragraph of his letter
John – “I endeavor to walk downtown at least twice per week. A regular route – 12th to P, Left on “P” to 9th. 9th along the Park Strip to “G” to 5th. East on “5” to Cook Inlet Book Company. Cross 5th Avenue to the Penney Mall. Walk up two flights and then one flight via escalator to the Food Court. Have a cup of coffee while perusing the New York Times I have picked up at the Book Company. I take the same general route home.”
“This time coming home when I arrived at “P” and 12th I realized this was starting the 51st year, minus England, that I have turned this corner and seen “R” Street. Other than the house being longer and the masonry chimney it has changed very little.”
I loved this block by block description of Dad’s walk downtown. He walked to work most every day while I was growing up, stopping at the Woolworth counter while it was still open. Following is “time lapse” photography showing the house through the years, you can decide for yourself how much it has changed.
Almost a lawn
The obligatory picket fence
Putting up siding
Building a new addition
Addition included extended basement and two bedrooms upstairs
Starting to look like Suburbia
Ruthie showing off her flora and fauna
She loved her flowers and garden
Our house was the neighborhood gathering spot
Another addition – new kitchen/dining area
Changing the location of the front door
A front porch
Bumping out the living room and adding a fireplace
Is that the same house
New coat of paint
Chapter 9 – “R” Street Within
While the exterior of the house was being transformed so was the interior, to a lesser degree. There weren’t as many slides of the inside of the house, but there are some. Come on in
1956 Living room
Living room with a glimpse of the kitchen
Dad’s rocking chair
1960’s Birthday party – no petting zoo or moonwalk here
Helping out in the kitchen
Christmas turkey – no growth hormones in that bird!
In house barber shop
New dining room and kitchen
Living room 1974
Other changes I remember being made to the house included installing wall to wall carpeting over the hardwood floors in the 60’s. When my Dad had the carpet replaced some 40 years later the salesman immediately recognized the line and commented on its indestructibleness – he didn’t mention anything about its attractiveness. A half bath was installed in the basement in the late 60’s or early 70’s. Prior to that we had one full bath on the main floor. It was a small house but I don’t remember it being small. We were always outside no matter the weather, so the close quarters didn’t seem to present a problem.
Chapter 10 – The 1964 Alaska Earthquake
The 1964 Alaskan earthquake, also known as the Great Alaskan earthquake and Good Friday earthquake, occurred at 5:36 P.M. AST on Good Friday, March 27. Across south-central Alaska, ground fissures, collapsing structures, and tsunamis resulting from the earthquake caused about 139 deaths.Lasting four minutes and thirty-eight seconds, the magnitude 9.2 megathrust earthquake was the most powerful recorded in North American history, and the second most powerful recorded in world history.(Wikipedia)
All five of us were in downtown Anchorage when the quake hit. My mother was in the J.C. Penney building, one brother was in the Denali Theatre on 4th Avenue watching The Sword in The Stone, I was with my Dad and other brother getting ready to cross 4th Avenue.
J.C. Penney building suffered extensive damage. Mom was in the building and made it into the interior stairwell where she, amazingly, suffered only minor physical injury when a sheet of drywall came down and scratched her arm
J.C. Penney building
Denali Theatre – my brother was watching The Sword and the Stone and remembers the projector being ejected out of the projector room – he escaped without injury
Twisted beam in Cordova building in downtown Anchorage
Hillside Apartments Anchorage
Collapsed Four Seasons apartment building – Anchorage
L Street Apartment Building – zoom in to see damage which was all cosmetic – building is still standing
Sunken buildings on L Street
Damaged home in Anchorage – zoom in to get a closer look
Outdoor kitchen for earthquake victims – water and power were out for much of Anchorage
Locomotive carried 150 feet inland by tsunami
Quake damaged oil tanks in Whittier
Quake damaged RR tracks Potter Hill outside Anchorage
My most vivid memory of the quake was standing on the downtown street corner. I was tightly holding on to my Dad’s hand watching the plate glass windows in the buildings surrounding us shatter and the stores across the street dropping nearly out of site.
Chapter 11 – The Cabin
When I was 9 years old my parents decided they wanted a get away from the hustle and bustle of Anchorage, which at that time had a population of about 100,000. They went in halves with another family who had four boys under the age of ten. Leasing a plot of land from the State on a small lake about 60 miles outside of Anchorage they built a cabin. No running water and no electricity it was heated by a wood burning stove and lighted with Coleman lanterns. At some point they added a propane tank so we could have a cooking stove. The outhouse, which seemed like a mile away on cold or dark mornings, was utilitarian to say the least. The cabin was basically a large main room with a few partitions to make you think it had a bedroom and a sleeping loft with no beds, just big mattresses. This was one time I was really glad I was a girl. I got one of the three beds downstairs and didn’t have to “rough” it in the loft. I loved it! I loved spending weekends there. It was heaven.
Basic cabin – four walls and a roof
The cabin with the morning sun
I’d be willing to bet the temp here was probably in the 60’s – I remember the first time it hit 82 degrees in Anchorage and I could barely move it was so hot
Fishing with my brother
Winter – cabin had no insulation – many times it would be colder inside than out
Spring is coming
Springtime – temp is probably all of 50 degrees
Breaking up the ice – rite of spring
Lilly pads at southern end of lake
You had to stay near the surface, you did not want to touch the lake bottom because of the leaches – hence the inner tubes
On the road leading down to our cabin
Alaska RR – back then you could flag the train down in between stations to get on and off
Me and Ruthie
We bought this little Sunfish sail boat and my brother and I fiberglassed the hull – it could fly
Ruthie and Me – March 1975
Ruthie & John
Dad – June 1976
Chapter 12 – Europe
In the spring of 1969 my parents took off for a trip to Europe. They were so taken with it that the next year they rented out our house, packed up the family and took off for a year in England. We spent the first three months camping around Europe in a Volkswagon van and then settled into a rental house in Liphook, England. I’m not sure how they swung it, but I do know that my Dad had to go home a few months before us to start earning money. The four of us came back by ship and when we landed in NYC my mother had $10 in her pocket. She didn’t even have enough to pay the guy on the dock who unloaded not only our suitcases but his New York attitude when he realized he wouldn’t be getting a tip.
Ruthie in Amsterdam – 1969 (She sewed many of her own dresses)
Mostar, Yugoslavia (now Bosnia)
Dubrovnik, Yugoslavia (now Croatia)
Ruthie in Murano, Italy
The whole family camping our way through Europe
Camping with two teenagers and an 11 year old. Driving in the van we played a lot of I Spy and Hangman. 1970
I had to include one of the infamous train track pics – check out our expressions – priceless!
Camping – the boys in one tent, my parents in the other and me in the van.
Neuschwanstein Castle, Bavaria
House in Liphook, England
Me in Trafalgar Square, London
Dad touched on our trip in his letter – here’s what he had to say:
John – “In looking back on the year in England I now realize the amount of work entailed for your Mother. At the time it never occurred to me.”
Chapter 13 – Dad’s Work
Dad worked in the transportation industry while I was growing up. He worked for companies that operated tugboats, barges and trucks throughout the state.
I was so surprised when I came across the next group pictures. I always knew Dad traveled a lot, I had no idea that he spent considerable time flying into small villages around the state, sometimes in light aircraft.
Nome, Alaska – check out the fuel tank on the tarmac
Landing area in St. Michael – that is the runway
St. Michael, Alaska
Flying between Togiak & Dillingham
Aerial view of Dillingham
Village of Kongiginak – Dad on right
Aerial view of Kipnuk
Prince William Sound
Prince William Sound
Oil Platform in Cook Inlet
Landing on oil platform
Chapter 14 – Quintessential Pics
These are pictures that didn’t fit neatly into the previous chapters/categories but represent the Alaskan experience or my father. Kind of a mishmash, but I feel a need to share them.
Dog sled team on Muldoon Road 1959
Blanket Toss Fur Rendezvous 1959
Chugach Mountains 1959
First Christmas in Anchorage – finding the perfect tree
In our backyard – 1958
Backyard with neighbor
Homemade skating rink in backyard
Must be Easter
Me – 1967
Plane wreckage Eagle River, AK 1966
Garden in neighbor’s back yard
Long summer daylight hours – perfect for growing vegetables!
Mom loved growing flowers and Dad liked photographing them
Begonias in kitchen
Portage Glacier 1958
Portage Glacier 1958
Independence Pass Ski Area
Independence Pass Ski Area
Mt. Foraker – McKinley Park
Mom tagging along with Dad in Nome
Hides drying – Nome
Skinning an oogruk (seal) – Nome
Dad standing next to old skin boat – Nome
Rocket firing – Nike Missile Site 1960
Rocket firing – Nike Missile Site 1960
Rocket firing – Nike Missile Site 1960
Rocket firing – Nike Missile Site 1960
Volcanic ash from St. Augustine eruption 1971
Volcanic ash from St. Augustine eruption 1971
John on Vulcan Locomotive in West Somerset, England
Dad took a course in operating a locomotive
Last leg of the journey…….
The Final Journey
Following the path to the cabin
Dad died suddenly while walking alone down the path to his beloved cabin. When I heard where and how he had passed I felt a profound sense of him having come home.
My father had spent the last 30 years of his life with his new family. While the desire was there to maintain ties to both of his families, it was a goal that ultimately proved elusive. By the time he passed away he was another family’s father, grandfather, husband – time and distance had taken its toll. During his memorial service, held at the cabin, I did not speak or offer any remembrances. I felt like a distant uncle had passed away.
For my entire adult life outside of Alaska when I told people where I was from I was met with wonder, peppered with questions and held up like a trophy – they knew someone from Alaska! People would ask about my childhood – what it was like, what possessed my parents to uproot and move there in 1956 and why I hadn’t moved back. Growing up in Alaska held a romanticism that intrigued people. I was often reliving my childhood – it had been an exciting and unique one. I certainly hadn’t lost it.
I believe my parent’s divorce, my father’s remarriage and early death of my mother had the effect of erasing the emotions – the joy and wonder of my childhood. There was no longer that connection to help keep them alive. As I journeyed through the slides all those feelings started flowing back. I felt as if I’d reclaimed something that had gone missing awhile ago.
While the emotional aspects of my story can probably be analyzed till the cows come home, one of the benefits of getting older (58) is the realization that there is no longer a need to. I’ve reached an age where I mostly accept life is what it is. I may not have liked aspects of it, but nothing and no-one is just as we wish them to be. And thank God for that, thank God for our imperfect parents, spouse, siblings, children and selves. It’s the imperfect that allows us to be fully human.
This blog is a thank you, a homage to my Dad, aka, John, Jonathon Joe, father, grandfather, husband, photographer, adventurer, homebody, builder, mechanic, tinkerer, avid reader, lover of nature, believer of the odd, traveler, sailer, volunteer, conversationalist, loner, soft-hearted, distant, walker, letter writer……imperfect fellow traveler.
Perfection: The complete and utter embrace of the imperfect…….